“I want a lodge that is
round like the day and the sun and the path of the stars. I want a
lodge that is like the good things that have no end.” Then
she chanted the song of the lodge that is round like the day and the
year and the seasons.

“I want a lodge that is
round like the day and the sun and the path of the stars. I want a
lodge that is like the good things that have no end.” Then
she chanted the song of the lodge that is round like the day and the
year and the seasons.

- Hal Borland, When Legends Die, Lippincott, 1963

What is a yurt?

The original yurt is a portable
round house used by nomadic Mongols in the steppes of Central Asia.
Able to withstand the frequent earthquakes, severe cold, and violent
winds of that region, the circular tent’s strength comes from
a tension band that holds the lattice walls together and a stiff
central compression ring that supports the roof.

From these design features,
permanent versions of the yurt have been developed for those who desire
to play a larger role in creating ecologically connected shelter for
themselves in which to live, work, or play.

Who is Bill
Coperthwaite?

In 1962, an inquisitive man named
William S. Coperthwaite, who had earned a Ph.D. in education from
Harvard, was seeking practical projects for his pupils to enliven a
small high school geometry class. Investigating the shapes of folk
dwellings, they built a Mongolian-style yurt, but adapted it to be
stationary. Learning far more than skilled carpentry, Bill and his
charges found that they could work together to achieve a common vision
and to create something new. Using their own intellect and labor and
available materials, the young scholars were able to physically shape
their immediate surroundings, to do so beautifully, and to gain
self-confidence in the process.

That was the first of more than 300
yurt-raisings that Coperthwaite has led in the last three decades. This
innovative craftsman demonstrates that ancient models can be blended
with contemporary techniques to produce less complicated, more elegant
ways to live. He calls this process social design, and it includes
anything done with fewer machines, less standardization, and more of a
person’s own capabilities.

With these goals in mind and in
order to provide a central repository for traditional folk knowledge,
Coperthwaite established The Yurt Foundation in the early 1970s.
Headquartered in Bucks Harbor, Maine, the nonprofit educational
organization sells yurt plans and calendars and schedules workshops in
yurt building and seminars in social design. The foundation’s
library, housed in one of the prototype yurts there, contains archives,
photos, slides, and books about native architecture and lifestyles.

Only a few yurts grace the Austin
vicinity. The first yurt we know of in Texas was erected by Bill and
the students of St. Stephen’s School in the autumn of 1972.
Shortly thereafter, a concentric yurt (one enclosing another) and three
smaller satellite yurts were built on Bee Caves Road for the Gaddis
family. In 1975, Coperthwaite oversaw the construction of two
nine-sided flying-roof yurts at Presbyterian Mo Ranch in Hunt, Texas.
Regrettably, the concentric yurt burned and the Hunt yurts were razed.

How was this
yurt built?

Bill Coperthwaite came to Austin in
April of 1994 to lead craft sessions, hold seminars, and help the 3rd
and 4th graders at Parkside Montessori School erect a small yurt. Since
Bill planned a return to Austin that fall to attend a conference on
experiential education, the notion of constructing another yurt here at
that time was an exciting prospect. During the summer, Bill and I
traded sketches of a plywood yurt with 12 4-foot-high walls, an
accordion-fold roof, and triangular windows back and forth between
Austin and Bucks Harbor.

With Bill’s arrival in
Austin the first of November, our plans were solidified and the
materials listed. Phone calls lined up a crew of curious volunteer
carpenters, a fine array of borrowed tools, and some donations. We
spent an entire afternoon buying and unloading the supplies, which
included 22 sheets of ¾-inch plywood, a 9½-foot
smooth iron bar for the compression ring, and landscape timbers for
posts. We were almost ready to begin.

A typical yurt workshop is set up
in this way, giving a group of people the opportunity to learn unusual
construction techniques together. Though the designs are basically
simple, some participants need primary training in the skills involved.
Others bring years of conventional building experience, but want to
apply it in novel ways.

On Friday, November 4, Bill and I
sorted the plywood sheets and marked and bevel-cut the trapezoidal
walls. This kind of construction takes advantage of more angles than 45
or 90 degrees. The site needed leveling, but recent rains had turned
the clay soil into a muddy morass, and progress was slow. That
afternoon Bill led a woodcarving class at Duane Lake Academy in North
Austin.

Later, at dusk, three participants
from the ongoing experiential education conference stopped by to see
Bill, who soon had them swinging a big sledgehammer to form the iron
bar into a ring. We did this by setting the bar on the side of a short
piece of railroad track and hitting it between the two supports at even
intervals. The straight metal gradually curved, and after another
afternoon of pounding, it was a complete circle.

Early Saturday, the crew arrived
and began cutting roof pieces, two from each 4 x 8 sheet of plywood. We
set the nine foundation posts and rock columns in the muck and fitted
the floor frame. Other willing hands hacksawed angle-iron to make
brackets to connect walls and roof. Part of Bill's genius is in guiding
several teams simultaneously through various sub-routines. With his
boundless energy and patience, building a yurt, though hard work, is an
edifying and empowering experience.

Sunday morning we had the brackets
drilled and the rod welded. While the roof sections were being nailed
together, we cut the plywood floor into an 11½-foot diameter
platform. Our old friend Jabo jigsawed the hobbit-shaped door out of a
wall panel, then all twelve wall segments were attached to the floor.
As twilight brought an end to the day's labors, the structure resembled
a huge salad bowl.

Monday, the wire cable encircled
the walls, holding them together beneath the brackets. At last the roof
sections, one for each wall, were hoisted into place, converging at the
center. Like a big Chinese puzzle, the pieces fit remarkably well. Bill
himself set the crowning ring into place at 7:00 pm amidst chants and
whoops of shared delight. As testament to its strength, Bill leaped up
and hung on the ring, which supported him mightily.

What’s
the upshot?

This was a community project from
its inception. It took four days, a vanload of lumber, and one
admirable director to complete the pavilion. The soundness and beauty
of the yurt is a testimony to the attention to detail and care that the
intrepid crew freely gave to the task. Thanks go also to those who
loaned tools and those who made monetary contributions. For these many
years, we’ve used the yurt for music, merriment, and
meditation.

Because of this brief but intense
adventure, a number of Central Texans have acquired the skills and
background to build more of these fascinating, attractive shelters.